Author's note: This is NOT the first chapter. PLEASE, before beginning, read the prologue first, here; http://foxdemonkirara.deviantart.com/art/23rd-Rule-Prologue-128825220


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Fire always made him want to do one of two things: sing, or sleep. There was something about the lure of its warm tones (about its yellows, reds, oranges, blues, purples, greens, the way it held every color of the rainbow if you simply knew how to look) and the way it licked at the air, tasting it and spreading its very embodiment of safety and satisfaction. Sleep came from the natural habitual feeling of comfort that all beings obtain from warmth, consciously or not; it's a feeling that you develop from the very moment that you become conscious of warmth, even as early as the warmth of a mother's womb. It's there from the moment your life begins.

Song, however, came to him because he was a dragon.

Dragons, as a species, are specifically attracted to fire, whether they enjoy it or not. To them, you see, fire is not just an element, but rather a living creature in itself. It breathed, thought, felt, whistled, spoke, and most of all, it sang. It called out in symphonies, orchestras, playing concerts with every flicker of it's flame -- it was only dragons that over the centuries, had grown the patience to actually listen. And that is why, when the boy closed his eyes, he heard the flame's rhapsodies, and answered them in the only way appropriate. He sang to them in return.

As he sat in front of the fire today, however, he had to ignore their calls.  His normal smile was gone from his face, replaced by a darker and far more serious expression that did not suit him quite as well. He still watched the flames as normal, but he blocked out the sounds, for he was listening to another's voice -- one that was accompanied by the heavier weight on his shoulder.

Rules. Rules upon rules upon rules. They were whispered in his ears, and he was only half-listening, for he knew them all by heart. The things he truly paid attention to were the occasional 'good luck's added in. Today was a special day in the young boy's life, as this cool Spring day marked his birthday. It wasn't so much that it was his birthday that was important as it was the fact that this was his fifteenth birthday today.

Dragons are peculiar creatures, for their position in the chain of life are unlike any other. Their animalistic instincts place them somewhere between ape and man, a mix of the intelligence of humans and the more barbaric characteristics of animals; yet, at the same time, their understanding of the laws of the land and the earth itself places them on a level far advanced of modern humankind. But with this high understanding of nature came a list of long and complex rules which was required of all dragons. One of the most important of which being the rule that no one could know about them.

Walking amongst humans in secret -- the masters of disguise. Creeping, living, working amongst humankind in secret like an underground black-market. Even going as far as controlling the creatures that hated and feared (yet didn't even believe in) them so in the form of politicians, or leaders of large businesses. The rules of how to go about doing this had been hammered into his head for ten years to this day. Today was a big day, because for the first time in his life, Roy was going to make himself known to a human.

"-- and -- and remember Article II, rule 10." His father seemed to be more nervous than he himself was, and his attempts at last-minute help was not at all as reassuring as he was trying. In all honesty it was probably raising the boy's blood pressure even higher as he waited for the clock to continue ticking away, to reach the right minute of the day; Dragons were very precise creatures, and the timing for his departure had to be exact. Roy licked his lips, closing his eyes, for the heat of the flames was beginning to dry them. He sat but a foot away.

'It'll be okay. Right?' he thought. The fire hummed in response. Aloud, however, he only said confidently, "It'll be okay, Dad."

His father looked down at him, expression growing more tender. Slowly his hand slipped off Roy's shoulder; Roy wasn't bothered by it, as the warmth of the flames in the fireplace were still soothing enough (if not more). "I know you will be. I just can't help but worry."

"Well, you've taught me well." He forced a smile on his face, legs coming up to be folded Indian style. He leaned a little forward, taking a slow breath of the air, thick with heat as it expelled from the flames. His chest burned a little as it filled his lungs, but his smile became a bit more real. "What time is it?"

A pause. His father was peering down at the cool silver metal that lay on his wrist, inscribed circularly with Italian fashion, much like the rest of him. "Ten thirty-two."

Roy's heart gave a little lurch, and he had to swallow down what he suspected to be his stomach having jumped into his throat. "... sixteen minutes then..."

A nearly tangible silence fell between them for a minute, heavy and thick as the heat in the air -- both thinking about the fact that neither knew when the next time they would see the other would be. Eliwood had left before -- been away, at work, at the store, out in life -- but Roy had never been without the presence of another. Even the nerve endings on his skin were tingling, hyper-sensitive with the thought. Time was flying too fast.

It had a tendency to do that when one lives for centuries.

Either way, it seemed too fast when Eliwood got to his feet, putting his hands in his pockets with a small sigh. Roy finally reopened his eyes, turning to look back at the red-haired dragon-in-disguise.

"I should get going now, Roy."

His son's sapphire eyes held his gaze, trying to look more confident than he felt. He gave a simple smile and nod. "Okay, Dad." Eliwood stared at him for a moment longer, until Roy got to his feet with a sigh, knowing the older man needed reassurance. Lifting onto his tip-toes a bit, he leaned forward, brushing his cheek against Eliwood's in a gentle nuzzle. This earned him a smile.

"Good luck," he whispered, and it seemed like only a second before he was gone and Roy stood alone in the old Roman-styled house. If it seemed that minutes passed like seconds when he had company, then surely they seemed to pass like milliseconds now as he paced his house a final time alone.

Anxiety built up in him as the narrow minute hand clicked closer and closer to three little tick marks past the bold, old-English scripted "9". He had left the fire now, eyes glued to the clock, but he could still hear it whispering to him from the other room. Slowly, calming his fluttering nerves, he allowed a brief grin to spread across his face.

"Don't worry. It's only goodbye for now."

And with that, he picked his courage and left his language behind, getting ready for his first class ticket to America.

Somewhere in the world's biggest Melting Pot, his damsel was waiting for him.




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Roy never had been the most patient person around -- it was a characteristic he greatly lacked in, though its source was unknown. It definitely wasn't attributed to his bloodline, for his father had the patience and gentleness of a saint, as did his entire lineage on that side -- he thought that maybe one or two of his ancestors might have actually been a Saint, at some point back at the beginnings of the Iconoclastic Controversy, back when the churches of Rome were still one. And on his mother's side --

Well. He frowned to himself. That wasn't important.

Either way, crouched in the dirt on the side of the road wasn't the ideal place that he wanted to be. Especially not for an extended period of time. However, despite his lack of patience, today was too important to let boredom ruin it. He'd have to swallow it down for now, fight against it and ignore the itches crawling through his skin, urging him to move.

The road was empty and deserted; nothing but dust and rocks, a little strip of barren desert tearing between the two grassy fields on either side of it. Nothing but a few patches of evergreens interrupted the grasses, marking the presence of something old and long forgotten -- of some old farmhouse that was planted there long ago, that had planted the trees when they were just little sproutlings, born for the very purpose of providing shade and protection for the family that lived inside. Though the houses were long since gone (long since collapsed and decayed) a new round of homes still existed judging by the distant sounds of chirps and whistles that rang in the redhead's acute ears.

Roy sat beneath one such tree, facing away from the road and toward the fields, head resting back against the bark. He didn't bother keeping a watch on the road, for if a person were to approach his ears would suffice for him. He had chosen this specific North Carolina county for the very purpose of this environment. It was quiet and uninhabited -- and perfect.

Roy chewed on the inside of his cheek, eyes turning to the sky.

Of all the dragons across the world, there was a universal system, a universal rulebook; and that book was called the Draconic Code. It wasn't so much a book as it was just a collection of laws, a collection that spawned long ago and inspired many human copies in it's wake, weak imitations such in the form of the Justinian Code, of Corpus Iurus Civilis. It was a book of written laws never written down, for there was no written alphabet for Dragontongue, but rather, memorized, engraved into the very hearts and minds of each dragon. No matter where they came from, where or how they were raised, they all knew the meaning of these laws and just what it was that they were supposed to do.

The division of articles of the Code were precise, and for a dragon's 15th birthday -- they had the entirety of Article III devoted just to them. Article III held the key to acceptance and Dragonhood in it's entirety; Article III was the bridge from being known as just a Hatchling, to that of actual adulthood.

It was dragonkind's Rite of Passage.

Article III, Section i-1. One may begin their Rite of Passage on the day of their fifteenth year of birth, or any year thereafter. Until the ritual has been properly completed, one cannot join the ranks and rights of Dragonhood and join their Draconian clan.
Article III, Section i-2. A human damsel of great beauty is to be captured and retained for a minimum of three days in one's own residence.
Article III, Section i-3. At the end of these three days, the damsel is to be slain.

That was the way of the Rite of Passage -- the way into Dragonhood.

Roy had been preparing for this very occasion since he'd turned five years old. He'd been memorizing rules and preparing for this very day for two thirds of his life -- and now that it was here, it was no more exciting than it has seemed it would be. Not a single hair stood on end for him as he'd sort of hoped. The idea had never particularly appealed to him, but he had fantasized, imagined and hoped that there would be some sort of adrenaline rush -- some sort of thrill of the hunt, but it still wasn't there. All that remained was the tingle of nerves, and a faintly ill mass in his heart like the black pit hidden in the redness of a cherry.

It was, admittedly, a rather grim entrance into his "adult" life, for the rules had been written and cast at least a millennium ago, when humans had not yet plundered and taken the Earth, claiming every inch of land for their own. Continents and countries went unexplored, empty, vast, and peaceful; it was not as society it was today. The killing of a human was both more and less necessary in this 21st Century -- Roy would much rather have done away with the rule entirely, but this was a prospect that was not even considerable. Over time, just as humans grew to have their own cultures, as did Dragons; separating and dividing into more and more clans and tribes which, at this day and age, were so numerous in variety that the very prospect of bringing a leader from each Clan together was unthinkable, and getting them to then agree on a change in rules damn near impossible.

Besides, Roy thought as he watched the cirrus clouds brush across the sky in streaks, it wasn't all so ridiculous. It was just preparation.

That was the purpose of it all, after all. Preparation so that when the day came when it was the dragon being hunted, it would not be because of fear or hesitance to take a life that they lost theirs. And at this thought, he felt a little bit of that cherry pit in his heart lesson, and he reminded himself, Humans.

"Humans are destroyers," he mumbled, rubbing at his forehead and sucking in a breath.

The very sound of his voice felt so very out of place in the peaceful countryside -- as if humans never had graced it's grass, their human tongue never filled the air. This wasn't true, he knew; deceptive as the clean land was, devoid yet of chemicals and wastes that all humankind seemed to bring, there was a farmhouse just down the road. He hadn't lingered long -- waited just long enough to learn yes, there was a daughter that lived there, yes they needed to go in town --

And thus, yes, this sweet little North Carolina country road was perfect.

It was just barren and open enough that town was many miles away, along with any neighboring houses. It was the perfect, easy plan, to wait until this daughter would come walking along, unknowing to just who -- what -- he was behind a charming smile and clear azure eyes.

His heart thudded a little faster as he tried to practice such a smile.

"Hello," he said, raising hands in greeting to an imaginary girl before him. Shooting a little grin at the stalks of tall grass he continued, "What a pleasure to meet you. -- and what a surprise, to come across someone so... So... Uhm, what the hell do I say. Pretty? right, right... Pretty."  The smile dropped into a frown, hands dropping as well. "Okay, okay... what is the English word again..."

He only hoped, he thought with a little tug at his stomach, he could understand her likely southern American accent. And it was just as he was considering this and halfway through his third practice of his speech and his smile that he heard it. A distant, light crunch of dirt and pebbles interrupting the solace of his and the birds voices, a little puff of dust into the air.

Telltale signs of footsteps. The redhead's breath hitched and froze in his throat, heart tripling in speed, and he got to his feet, forcing himself to walk out onto the road before he could hesitate or think about it. He had to get out there before she came into sight and saw that he had been hiding. Closing his eyes as he faced the direction of the farmhouse, he gathered himself together, breathing long and slow for a moment to steady his emotions, and then started casually walking.

'Ten years. It's time to put it in action.'

The first thing that he saw was blue hair.

He kept himself from looking at her, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes on the country side, wandering across the grassy surroundings as if he had not already been studying them for hours, and they were positively fascinating. He watched out of the corner of his eye, however, as the distant figure got closer and closer, revealing that startling blue hair and a thin form, curiously hiding her curves. Roy had expected a dress or skirt of sorts, but she was clad in a normal pair of pants. He supposed this shouldn't have been surprising, recalling his studies over the years. If there wasn't a son in the household, of course it was likely that she would have to take up a less feminine role to fill the shoes. Statistics said...

He stopped his thoughts there, dropping statistics and studies and focusing on charm, charm, charm, because she was close enough now that he could no longer pretend he didn't notice her. Blue eyes flicking in her direction, he forced his facial features to go through the expected reaction. A faint quirk of the eyebrows of surprise, then relaxation; and lastly, a little smile.

She wasn't smiling back.

Roy didn't bother calling out or greeting her. Instead, he just watched her as she approached, watching her watch him back. 'Weird,' he thought briefly, wondering as he approached, 'a real human. Not a disguise... A real, skin-and-bone human.'

A real skin-and-bone human, just yards away. His steps slowed, grew smaller, and then stopped entirely as unwittingly, the human girl walked slowly up to the waiting dragon.

"Hi," he said softly, allowing that practiced smile to slip on his lips and his eyebrows to quirk up. "I didn't expect to run into someone else on a road like this."

She didn't smile in return -- she stopped, eyes flitting carefully around him, before returning, "Neither did I."

He peered around the side of her as if checking, nodding in the direction that he knew the farmhouse lay. "I take it you're coming from the farm down there?" he questioned, eyebrows tilting further.

No reply; a mere nod, still no smile gracing her lips, but her bangs tilting and prettily framing her face anyway. 'What a nice girl,' he thought dryly. 'At least I don't have to worry about not understanding her.'

"What a coincidence, then."

"Pardon?"

Come to think of it, she didn't have much of an accent, anyway.

"I mean, that I was just on my way that way, and I came across you." He forced another smile to his lips, thinking to himself silently to help spawn emotion into it, how silly. He glanced over his shoulder. "Are you on your way to town?"

"Yes," she returned, licking her lips and still watching him with that same, curious expression that read, why are you asking me this? He tried to stop his ba-dum, ba-dum-ing heart, telling himself that she couldn't know what he was thinking. It felt as if she could see right through his skin to what lay inside.

How silly.

"You should be careful... I haven't seen any, but I just came from that way -- I heard from some people in town that they've seen bandits around."

"... Well, thank you." A little frown tilted onto her soft features. "But... I think I will be fine."

"Oh, I'm sure... Just a friendly warning. Oh, how rude of me -- by the way, my name's Allen."

The name rolled off his tongue before he could think, and he wasn't entirely sure why he'd said it. There was no rule, no plan that he could think of that should have stopped him from using his name. Something instinctually stopped him, some of those uncomfortable squirms in his stomach, growing more and more, making the unneeded lie spill from his lips. His mind briefly flashed to the other, taller redheaded dragon in question -- a loud, grinning boy who had long since completed his own Rite. He hoped he wouldn't mind having his identity taken -- if only for a brief time.

"Anri," the girl was saying softly, hand slipping into his.

"A pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise."

"... Can I ask what you're going into town for? If I could save you any trouble."

"Ah... groceries."

"Oh..." Roy licked his lips, looking over his shoulder again at the road, and then back to Anri. She was even prettier up close; long lashes, soft hair, and all pale skin. Or so he figured, at least. He knew what the human conception of beauty was; he found it difficult to consider it attractive himself. It was too much like a... shell. She hadn't exactly cast him any pretty expressions, anyway, which left him with even more nerves to make the next words pass as reasonable. "I don't like the thought of someone as pretty as your to have to drag along piles of groceries. I was going to speak with your father anyway... would you like a helping hand?"

"... my father?" Like that, the frown was back -- on not only her, but Roy as well.

"In the farm...?"

"I think you have me mistaken for another." She stepped around him, clearly ready to leave again.

"I thought there was only one farm this way?"

"There is. But the farmer there is not my father."

"Oh... are you a visitor, then?"

"Yes," she returned, looking over at him and raising her thin eyebrows curiously and not having the slightest idea --

That she had just perfected Roy's day.

"Oh! In that case... I think you do need a helping hand. Someone who knows their way around town. It can be pretty easy to be lost around here, believe it or not. Especially by foot."

"Thank you -- but if you have business with the farmer, then by all means; don't let me keep you." She smiled, and Roy tried not to grin.

"You wouldn't be keeping me any less than when I thought the farmer was your father."

Anri watched him for a moment, smile slowly fading back to her casual, nonchalant look, and she began to walk again, hand sliding in her pocket. "If you insist then, Allen."

"It'll be my duty of the day," he returned as he followed her, mind already beginning to drift, heart ka-thudding yet again, hardly able to believe his luck. He thought as they began to walk, mentally rewiring 'the plan' that he had written over the past few hours in his head. It had all originated over the idea that he'd be taking this simple little farmer-girl -- the luck here was almost more than he could imagine. A farm girl way out here would have been perfect, but a stranger visiting a farm all the way out in the middle of nowhere was even more perfect. If there were going to be inquiries about where she went, the search would be, of course, all the way out here in this strange little county she was visiting. It would be very nearly untraceable.

'Perfect,' he thought, eyes flicking over to her as she spoke up again.

"Out of curiosity, why are you out here, Allen?"

No longer having to regard to limits that the girl should have known had she lived here, he lied easily, "I live a few miles away; my father owns a farm too... We noticed last week some trouble with our sheep... or lack of." He shot her a wry smile. "My father sent me to ask him if he was missing any either, since we haven't found any... thing left. It's strange."

"Oh... that's--"

Click.

"Hello?"

The sound, the little greeting, was quiet and muffled, leaving Roy almost double-taking. He glanced about, confused, before his eyes fell back to Anri. She didn't seem to notice it at all, eyes still on the road. The redhead's steps faltered, feeling a little unnerved.

"Yes," he mumbled faintly. If someone was down the road...

"Marth?"

There it was, again. This time, his eyes zeroed in on the source, and he furrowed his brows.

The pocket the girl had her hand in.

"... Marth? Are you there?"

She was speaking again, ignorant to both the muffled voice and his concerns or suspicions, and he realized he hadn't even heard the rest of her sentence -- or whatever he'd been 'yes'ing to. "Well, the farm I am staying at has sheep. I'm afraid it's just your farm."

"Mmm," he returned, staying half a step behind to watch curiously, ears straining to hear anything else. "Then I'll have to warn him to watch out then. Maybe the bandits I heard of..."

"Mm, I suppose it must be... There aren't any coyotes in the area, are there?"

"No."

"Then I suppose it must be bandits."

Roy was only half listening to the conversation. He looked carefully ahead and behind, but there was no signs of anyone. His ears hadn't been deceiving him. There was definitely a voice. Eyebrows furrowing, he searched his mind for the English words, struggling at the thought of going off script. "Yes..." He said cautiously, looking over at the bluenette. "Did you hear something?"

Anri returned the glance, shaking her head. "No..."

And with that, the redhead settled down and decided, this was enough.  There was something strange about this girl that he didn't particularly like or trust -- something that was setting his nerves on end when they shouldn't have been. Pushing any thoughts of why else he would be reluctant out of his head, he settled in on the original point of the conversation. He didn't seem to be particularly charming her as he'd hoped; she seemed just as suspicious of him as he was of her. He might have let it gone on further, made a few more attempts, but whatever this voice was that he heard... he shouldn't have heard. It only meant one thing  -- they weren't entirely alone.

And that was not an acceptable flaw in, as he was beginning to dub, The Plan. Slowly stepping up to him, he mumbled, "Strange..."

"Is your farm far, Allen? I would hate to think you came all this way..."

Stepping closer yet, he mumbled, pointing, turning the girl's eyes away from him; "It's a couple miles that way. Papa knew I had a way to go, anyway..."

"East?"

And without waiting for another word or thought, Roy brought his hand up to the back of her head, slamming it easily into it.

A rather sickening crack joined the sounds in the grassy fields. The birds seemed to stop whistling and singing, as if they too heard it and were watching The Plan; as if they too knew just what the redhead had been mentally pumping himself up to do in the first place. She fell easily to the ground, and he caught her by her waist, keeping her from falling all the way. He hefted her up with a little grunt, examining her. She was unconscious, as he'd expected, and his nerves were put just a little at ease at this. Lowering the bluenette to the ground, he dropped to his knees with her, hand brushing more gingerly and more carefully through her hair, inspecting the back of her head with a more human gentleness. There was no blood, which was a good sign; though there would undoubtedly be a bump there when she came to.

Licking his lips, his eyebrows furrowed. Her hand was still in that suspicious pocket that it had been in before. Slipping his own hand over hers, he reached into it -- and surely enough, her hand was wrapped lightly around a device. While Roy didn't know much about technology, he knew what it was; a cell-phone.

A communications device.

Unease dropped into the pit of his stomach, but he shook it off easily. So she'd called someone. It didn't matter; in a few hours they'd be thousands of miles away... and there was no country bumpkin human that would be able to make a difference. He raised the cell phone to his ear, listening for a moment; the sound of breathing, sharp and concerned met his ears, and then --

"Hello?"

Roy frowned, lowered it from his ear, and promptly shut the cell phone. He stared down at it for a moment in thought, before shaking his head and pushing it back into Anri's pocket. Taking a deep breath, he started to stand up, lifting the girl back upright again, balancing her carefully in her arms (and wrinkling his nose slightly at the height difference -- what a weird girl).

Phone or not, it had worked just as he'd hoped. He suddenly couldn't help but laugh a little, remembering alarmed he'd been at the voice in the first place. "Well," he said to himself, dragging a free hand through his hair, "I guess that's part one, complete."

Even still, as he already felt his body begin to shift and change back into his proper scales and he got ready to take off, he couldn't help but wonder.

'What the hell's a 'Marth'?'